Mewschievous Purrsons
by estelle.ollivere
Summary: Chat's become a little too frequent in Marinette's home life, and she finds it less than amewsing. / Second Part Added, and Updated March 2018.
1. Be-mew-sing Discoveries

**I own nothing about Miraculous save for this sorry little fic.**

 **Enjoy. Or don't. Flame me if you want.**

 _ **Updated March 2018**_

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The dim light of her desk's lamp didn't really offer much by means of vision, the bulb old and used. She never really noticed as its brightness damped each time she turned it on, but tonight it was just as she made a finishing touch on an embroiderment that it seemed to occur to her. She set her work down carefully and stuck the pins in her handmade pin holder. She stopped a moment to consider the little voodoo looking black cat before standing and stretching, preferring to look at where Tikki was resting in a very much _red_ and _not_ cat-like bed.

Her shoulders stung like they'd been whipped from being crouched over so long.

It was a Saturday night, and her sixteenth birthday. There was a hoodie that she'd been working on for the last few days, and she wanted to get it finished before Sunday. That in mind, she'd set herself down and got to work. But as she glanced at the clock, her expression turned wry to find it two in the morning. She had been working for _hours_.

As she reached over to turn off her lamp so the bulb could cool, every one of her muscles complained like rubber that had lost its elasticity.

Her right eye closed, and with a strange mix between a groan and a moan, she rubbed her back to try and alleviate at least some of its ache. In the darkness of her room she could just make out the edges of all her furniture, the moon mostly covered by thick clouds, so she slowly (and stiffly) made her way to the hatch in her floor.

Not unused to late night visits downstairs, she didn't have to concentrate too much to open the door and climb the familiar stairs. She left it open for when she would go back up, though, because the less noise she made the better.

The thought made her scowl as her feet touched upon the floor. She didn't remember exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way Chat had started visiting her in her civilian form. She thinks he might even see more of Marinette than Ladybug, and he had _no_ reason to see her as much as he did. Ladybug she understood, they were partners. But Marinette?

His visits had become so frequent as of late that she'd taken down all of her posters of Adrien out of embarrassment, he'd caught them once and it was _not_ okay. He still teased her, and it's been months. What's worse is how her room had become littered with black cats in replacement of those pictures. Her pin holder, her mouse pad, and the most comfortable pillow she'd ever encountered. Some were little gifts from the egotistical kitty himself, others were things she'd made or purchased herself. The most dreadful thing about that was how she didn't even realize until after she'd done the deed of making or buying the object that the inspiration was him.

It became inherent.

Anyways, to the point, he wasn't always the most sneaky cat around. Sometimes he made enough noise to wake the neighborhood, maybe all of Paris. Her parents often confronted her about the ridiculous amount of noise coming from her room some nights, and she had the feeling they were beyond suspicious at this point.

They probably thought she was hiding some sort of lost animal, or harboring a stolen train that she liked to start up in the middle of the night.

Lost animal was pretty close, she supposed. Animal, check. Lost... yes, she smirked. Lost cause for sure.

She looked around all the rooms of the building, not really sure where the spare bulbs were, until she finally found the stash. She hummed quietly under breath as she shuffled through the boxes until she found one compatible with her needs. Box in hand, Marinette padded back to her room. Climbing the last step, the bulb almost dropped back down through the hatch.

She caught it, though. So it was all good.

Closing the hatch slowly and quietly, she made her way back to her desk. After tapping the current bulb to make sure it wouldn't burn, she unscrewed it and set it to the side. For some reason, though, she couldn't manage to open the box for her new light bulb. It was irritating. Apparently, the more she tried the more stubborn the lid got.

"Need some help?"

Her heart leaped to her throat and her stomach plummeted. With a short scream and a three foot jump, her elbow smacked the corner of her desk. Hard. "Ow! What-"

"Marinette?" She froze, because although it hadn't completely registered exactly _who was in her room_ quite yet, that was her father. And that was not good. "What's going on, are you alright?"

Taking a second to calm her heartbeat and steady her voice, she called down in a surprisingly strong reassurance, "Yes, fine. Sorry to wake you!" She had little doubt of the incredible lack of concern she needed to have about her visitor.

"Alright, get some sleep, young lady."

"Will do!"

While she stood as still of humanly possible, she looked with wide eyes in the direction the voice had come from. She had a suspicion. Replaying the voice's question over in her mind, it certainly sounded like Chat. Usually he didn't just invade, though. If she didn't answer then he'd leave.

At least, she assumed.

Once she was sure her parents were back in their room, she moved into a more comfortable and demanding stance. "Look what you did," she accused.

The response was a good-natured, hushed laugh. "Sorry, Princess, didn't realize you scared so easily."

She grumbled and chucked the box in the direction of his voice, muttering angrily about night vision when she heard him catch it with ease. It took only a second for her to hear the cardboard flap slip easily from its slot, and then the sounds of boots on wood approached her. She felt him suddenly, so close to her but not touching, his breath on the crown of her head. She looked up, instinctively finding where his eyes would be. Sure enough, there was that glitter of green just barely visible in the dark. He leaned forward, and her breath caught in her throat because _what was happening?_

But suddenly there was light, bright and expansive. Her room was bathed in the glow of it, and Chat was halfway across the room again. She glanced behind her where the cardboard box was set on her desk and the bulb in her light replaced. "Thanks," she mumbled, turning back to face him.

His grin was far too cat-ate-the-canary for her liking. It was quickly replaced with rapture, and an amount of glee she hadn't thought possible for one human being to contain, when he looked past her. She wasn't as thankful for the change in facials as she thought she'd be.

"That's new!" he chirped, pointing at something behind her.

She was afraid to turn, but she did it anyways. It was her hoodie.

She regretted finishing it.

"Oh, yeah. It's... nothing special," she responded lamely, putting as little interest as possible into her voice in the hopes that he'd move on.

Not so.

He glided past her, and she rushed to snag the article before he could reach it. She shoved it behind her back, balling it up in the process. "Hey, I wanna see," he complained with an obnoxiously adorable pout.

"Too bad, not for your eyes, Kitty."

He stared her in the eye for a while, seeming to think something over in his head. After a moment he just winked and backed off. "Fair enough. So how's Adrien?"

It was amazing how fast her entire face could heat up. "I hate you," she sighed, crossing the room to stuff the sweatshirt in one of her drawers. She almost slammed it shut before remembering about her parents. "What are you doing here this time, Chat? Do you _know_ what time it is?"

He adopted a sheepish look, grinning guiltily and rubbing his arm. "Sorry, but I had to give you your present. I was too busy earlier."

She blinked, her heart doing a strange little flip.

He got her a present. That... was _so_ sweet.

Well, assuming it wasn't some little black cat trinket.

"Oh, Chat, you didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to," he defended immediately. "You're my friend."

She smiled warmly, reaching him with wide arms to give him a hug. "I would be more inclined to agree if you hadn't woken up my parents," she teased with a squeeze around his torso.

"Me- _owch_ ," he joked back, clutching at his heart once she'd backed away. "How easily you dismiss our friendship."

Blue eyes were rolled and a shoulder was punched, and a certain cat's laughter filled the room. He walked over to her desk where a wrapped box had been overlooked by Marinette. Had that been there since he arrived?

"I wasn't really sure what to get you, so I'm not sure you'll like it... but. Here," he shrugged, lifting it and offering it to the teen.

"I'm sure I'll love it, Cha-" she started as she slipped her fingers under a fold in the wrapping, stopping short when she saw a millisecond's worth of his devious grin. Her eyebrows connected like magnets and angled downward. His eyes widened innocently and he gestured for her to finish open it.

Frowning, she did so.

Once she'd removed the wrapping, she slid the lid off of the brown box beneath. Inside was another box, slightly smaller but identical in appearance to the first. She shot him a dry look, and he waggled his eyebrows in return. Dropping the larger of the two right there on the floor, she flipped open the next lid to find...

Another box.

This time her glare was plain dirty, and his brow-waggling even more enthusiastic. She opened this box, and then two more until finally there were no more. She lifted the layer of green tissue paper, eager to see what he'd stashed there, only to find the bottom of the box.

She slowly dragged her eyes from the box to the tissue paper, and to the box again. Then she lifted a gaze that just screamed: _why?_ to her partner.

His face was beginning to tint red from holding in the laughter.

Her eyes dropped back down to the tissue paper before her lips warmed into a smile full of pure delight. "Oh, Chat! Just what I wanted: tissue paper! How did you know?"

At that he did laugh, hands clutching at his sides across his stomach and eyes nearly closed from the size of his smile. If she hadn't been looking at him, she might not have joined in. But his mirth was contagious.

"Marinette, is there someone in there with you? And why aren't you sleeping?"

It was her mother this time, "Crap." Her hands flailed to try and get him to hush up.

"Yes, Mama, I'm just on the phone with A-" she was about to say Alya, but wasn't sure if her parents could tell if the other voice was indeed that of a _male_. So, thinking fast, she turned mid syllable to say: "Adrien," to which Chat raised a malicious brow. She stuck her tongue out at him before remembering the second question. "Oh! Sorry, I tried to sleep. I, uh, just feel so... energized?" As her statement trailed off she cringed. That could have been more thought through.

"Oh, _Adrien_ ," she lilted back, causing Marinette to flush far too red because she had _company_ and he was snickering at her misfortune.

Wasn't Ladybug supposed to be lucky? Must be because Chat was there. Speaking of which, she dearly hoped that Tikki had managed to stow herself away before Chat Noir could see her.

"Ma _ma_!" Her hands came up to cover her face.

The sounds of more than amused laughter trailed away as her mother left, and Marinette smacked Chat on the shoulder. "Stop waking them up!"

"Sorry, Princess. I forget myself when I'm around you," he reparteed suavely.

She rolled her eyes again and knelt down to pick up the boxes from the floor, but when she stood up again they fell right back down. "No!"

But it was too late. Standing at the other end of her room was her soon-to-be-dead-partner, wicked grin on his face and her latest hoodie in his hands. "Aw, Princess, I'm touched."

"That- that has nothing to do with you!"

His sideways smile and half-lidded eyes made her highly uncomfortable. "Oh really? He twisted it around to she could see her handiwork, "'Feline good,' and what's this? A black cat? With... are those _green_ eyes?"

She pursed her lips, wishing him a million deaths with her eyes.

"I think you've become addicted to my presence, Princess."

"Doubtful," she grumbled, marching over and whipping the article out of his hands. She made a show of dumping it in the trash bin.

His eyes widened and he seemed to jump like a startled... well. A startled cat, quite frankly. "Hey! No! It's too perfect for the trash, I'll keep it." He rushed to take it out, shaking it off and slipping it on over his suit. It fit almost too perfectly. He cut a suspicious glance over to Marinette, whose eyes slipped easily to the ground. He looked back down at the sweatshirt's chest, genuine smile spreading fast.

"Suit yourself," she said, and he sent her a grin. Reaching behind him he slid open a drawer in her desk, one that she stored a wide variety of writing utensils in, and pulled out another box. This one fit easily into his palm, and he held it out on top of his open hand. She eyed it dubiously before reaching out a hesitant hand. Why was he so familiar with her drawers, what was this? A shared room now?

Her fingers brushed his gloved hand and it felt strange.

She took her time to preserve the beautiful wrapping paper despite knowing full well that she'd probably never have a use for it. It was silver and swirly and made her eyes glaze just a little. Still cardboard and brown, the box's lid came off and sailed for the floor. Green tissue paper soon followed. Her brows furrowed when below it was a waxy sort of paper, folded to fit the container. She lifted it out and spread it open. The contents had enough of her attention that she didn't really register the sound of Chat slipping out the window.

It was a picture of Adrien, signed.

What really dropped her jaw, though, was the message above it: _"Happy Birthday, LB!"_ **  
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	2. Embarr-hiss-ment

**Wow, was not expecting anything so fast. Or enthusiastic. You guys just made my year. C:**

 **Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. :3**

 **This didn't turn out exactly as I had wanted it to, but I still hope this is chat-isfactory.**

 _ **Updated March 2018**_

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She tripped on the way into school, just barely saving herself from a face plant. To say the least, she was distracted. All through the rest of the weekend she'd been staring at that picture, re-reading those words a hundred times in an hour. Theories ran rampant, but none of them seemed to make any sense. She couldn't figure it out, and somewhere along the way she got so confused that she forgot what she was trying to find in the first place.

Tikki wasn't very helpful, she just kept giggling suspiciously every time the subject was brought up.

"Whoa, door," Alya said, pulling Marinette back by her arm just before she could ram into said object. "You alright, Girl? You seem distracted."

"Oh, no. I mean yes, I'm fine," Marinette made a show of rubbing her eyes. "Just tired, you know me. Midnight designing."

Alya just hummed, but didn't pursue the topic any further. Instead she turned the door's handle and the two entered the classroom, taking their seats and preparing for the lesson. Once she'd settled in her chair, Marinette reached over to set her bag on the floor and pull out her notebook. She wasn't careful enough and the bottom of her pad hit her bag, making everything spill out onto the floor.

"Oh, of course," she muttered. Pushing her chair back and infinitely thankful most people weren't even in the room yet, Marinette knelt down and started to collect her items. Soon another pair of hands came into view and started stacking papers. She looked up and froze when she saw who it was. "Adrien," she said without real reason.

He met her eye and smiled warmly. "Hey, Marinette. Here."

She didn't really understand what he meant by 'here' until he gestured with a nod downwards. "Oh! Uh, thank you, Adrien," she took the offered papers and stuffed them back into her bag, smiling something she was sure was entirely embarrassing. As usual.

"No purr-oblem," he winked before standing up and taking his seat.

She sat there for a little longer on the floor, trying to decide if Chat's visits were making her crazy or whether Adrien seriously just made a cat pun. It wasn't until Alya threw an eraser at her that she remembered she had a seat to go back to.

Class was mundane, not that she would prefer a more intensive class. She had so much to think about that a class she had to pay attention to would be the absolute worst at the moment. She took notes, stared at the back of a certain blond head, and kept furiously scribbling out doodles of black cats that seemed to mysteriously appear on her paper. She had to keep sharpening her pencil every three minutes because of it.

Sometimes Alya would lean over to see what she was doing, but Marinette would hover her entire upper body of the notebook because not even Alya could know she'd become cat-obsessed. She would die of mortification, especially since her best friend's blog allows her to think _everything_ has something to do with the superhero duo. She'd figure it out in an instant.

The minute class ended, she slammed the pad shut and rammed it into her bag. She was on a mission.

At least today the repetitive lecture gave her time to think out a plan. She'd catch him before he left and ask- no, demand an answer. Yeah, and she would get an answer to answer all questions. Assuming, that is, that she could gather enough courage to get in two words. To say she'd become more comfortable around Adrien as of late wasn't a complete lie, but it was nowhere near the whole truth.

She walked up behind him and tapped his right shoulder twice. "Um, Adrien?"

"Oh, hey Marinette," he greeted once he'd spun around to face her. "What's up?"

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the offending item. He stared at it blankly until she held it out for him, and he took it. "What's this?"

His green eyes roved over the picture with obvious confusion, reading the sharpie message carefully. "Oh, this? I remember now. Chat Noir asked me for a signature, said it was Ladybug's birthday and that..." he trailed off, eyes casting to the side and face flushing just slightly. His hand even came up and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"That..." she prompted, curious.

"I don't like signing things, you know," he said abruptly, "but it was Ladybug-"

Marinette cut him off, a thought suddenly striking her. "Why did you call her 'LB'?"

He grinned up at her, eyes raising to meet hers but head still angled down. "Why do you have that picture?"

Startled, her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide. Before she was able to conjure up a coherent response, he laughed wickedly and slid the present back into her hand.

"Catch you later, Marinette," and he was off.

.oOo.

That night she was determined to find Chat, prowling the roofs of Paris as Ladybug and sitting on her balcony as Marinette. No sign of him, though, and she decided that the coward had stayed indoors.

Chat knew, and Adrien knew, and she got the niggling feeling that maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe because... no. They couldn't be the same person. No way. Oh, the possibility wasn't lost on her, because she wasn't by any means dense. Marinette was actually very astute, and it was because of it that she was so adamant that the two weren't in any way the same. She didn't want them to be, not because she'd be disappointed. Under any other circumstances she'd be delighted, really.

It's just... Chat has been to her room. Several times. And he knows about Adrien, and her newfound obsession with black cats. And he flirts with Ladybug. A lot. So if Adrien was Chat Noir, then Adrien knew about Adrien and black cats, has seen her in her pajamas, and flirts with Ladybug. But if he knows, because they both know, about her identity, and they were the same person, that means he's known for who knows how long and flirts with Ladybug still.

And if he knows, and he's the same, then Adrien is flirting with Marinette.

And he knows she'd fixed on both Adrien and Chat Noir, which are both him.

It's too much to think about, and she falls back on the roof she was sitting on with a groan. Her legs kick the air over the roof's edge, and she distracts herself with counting stars. The night air is cool on her skin and breathes becomingly through her suit. "Looking for me?"

The voice is sudden and has her jumping up, almost falling off the roof. "Isn't that bell of yours supposed to jingle every time you move?" She stood up to face him, hands on her hips.

His grin was devious. "I thought you liked it when I was quiet, M'Lady," he jested, to which she scowled and jammed a finger into his chest.

"How'd you find out, Kitty?"

Under the black material of his suit, his shoulders rose and fell in a lazy shrug. "I saw your kwami. Twice, now, actually. The second time was a few days ago, she couldn't hide in time."

She blinked, wondering under what other circumstances Tikki could have been spotted, then grimaced at her inadvertent pun. "And... the first?"

His lips rolled between his teeth and he gazed at the sky in thought, two gloved fingers coming up to rest on the side of his chin. "I think it was two, maybe three months ago. You were talking to your purse, so I moved to see better," he spread his hands, "and I saw."

"And..." she trailed off, not sure what she was asking.

"And, Bugaboo, whether you know it or not, I think it's claw-some who you are," he took her hand and brushed his lips over knuckles. She pulled her hand away like it was burning as much as her face was and pushed him away by the nose.

"Your puns, _mon minou_ ," she groaned, turning to cover her blush. But when she turned to ask him about himself, he had slipped away silently. She really had to keep a closer eye on him.

All of a sudden her shoulders were heavy and the air too cold. She had no idea when she'd see him again to interrogate him more, and so she'd be plagued with only more questions. Her posture sagged and she headed back home, moaning when she looked at her clock and saw it was eleven on a school night. De-transforming, she climbed up to her loft and fell back on her bed with a dragging sigh.

"Oh, Tikki," she mumbled, burying her face in the softness of her black cat pillow.

The kwami giggled, poking Marinette in her shoulder. "It'll all turn out fine, Marinette. But for now, you'll need your sleep for school tomorrow."

She drew the pillow away from her face, gazing determinedly at the ceiling. "You're right, Tikki. It's a problem for tomorrow." That said, she rolled over to her side and burrowed under the sheets, not even bothering to change into proper sleepwear. Her sleep came slowly, but it was dreamless and she woke up the next morning at least somewhat rested.

Enough not to physically injure herself at school in the morning. Despite feeling perfectly awake, her eyes are heavy and glazed and her lids fall halfway over her irises. Thus, she has a few minor issues.

Like how her eyes are playing tricks on her when she sees Adrien wearing the cat hoodie that Chat had taken from her just the other day. Inside she's laughing at herself, but when she rubs at her eye and looks back over, he's really there in that sweatshirt. Grinning at her like he'd just done something sinister. She blinks, and now her eyes are wide and open.

"Hey there, _Princess,_ " he purred, and oh lord he _knew_.

He knew about her, and him, and the _cats_ , and oh-

He knew. The posters, her desktop wallpaper. _Him_.

It was all she could do to keep from passing out cold on the hard concrete below her, face burning a crimson far more intense than even her Ladybug suit, because _he knew._ He was smirking at her even now, knowing glint in his familiar green eyes. It was so unnerving that, in a complete panic, she flung her backpack off her shoulder and swung it right into his side. "Oh my God!"

Then among his litany of 'ow's, because that thing was _heavy_ , he cackled and grinned, and she covered her burning face.

And, throughout it all, Alya and Nino stood off to the side, faces skewered with pure, unadulterated obfuscation.

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 **...could you tell I didn't know how to end?**


End file.
